


Beauty on a Winter Morning

by Myaru



Category: Saiunkoku Monogatari
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-07
Updated: 2011-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-17 17:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myaru/pseuds/Myaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juusanhime has terrible handwriting, Shuurei has a creepy uncle. Neither is an ideal empress, but in each other they both find the perfect friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beauty on a Winter Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Imanewme](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Imanewme).



> Inspired by my vague memory of The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon, and not a very good imitation.

_Things pleasant on a winter morning:_   
_one: the tang of plum paste and cinnamon incense on the air when one wakes_   
_two: rain pattering on the roof tiles_   
_three: ginger tea in Shuurei's thin porcelain cup to warm one's hands_   
_four: steaming white rice with greens and a bright yellow roll of sweet omelet_

.

"Much better," Juusanhime's instructor said, though it was accompanied by the soft puff of a sigh.  "I know you hate practice grids, but--"

"Out of the question!"  She put her brush down and frowned, pushing her lip out as much as she could and propping her fists on her hips.  Doing that while sitting at tea didn't feel so impressive, but it did make her look broader, and taller.  "This is silly.  No one will care what I think of our breakfast, anyway, you know?"

Shuurei's mouth twisted behind her tea cup; it looked kind of like a smile.  "If someone hears we have sake and roasted duck for breakfast, their wives will start doing the same."  She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling while she sipped, her nails dyed red like the camellia blossoms painted on the porcelain.  Jewels clicked when she shifted position, hanging from hairpins, earrings, her bracelets.  "The first time I entered the Inner Court, I wandered around the palace with a box of steamed buns and sesame rolls, looking for Ryuuki so I could hit him with it."  Her brown eyes looked red when lit from the side.  "Soon, officials in every ministry were arriving with treats from their wives.  Kouyuu said some of them were just awful."

"Compared to yours?  Of course they were."  Juusanhime relaxed her posture and looked down at her paper, holding her teacup with one hand.  Her rice bowl was empty aside from a few grains stuck to the sides, and Shuurei's was half-full, but the omelets and greens were all gone - the plates were empty, smeared with black sauce.  "Then, I should challenge Shuuei to a public contest.  Maybe bladework will become popular."

Shuurei's mouth flattened, and Juusanhime laughed.  Her tea was still too hot when she lifted the cup for a sip; it burned her tongue, and she set it down quickly, sloshed some on her hand, and yelped.  Shuurei sighed again, making a big show of it, and put her cup down slowly.  It clinked on its saucer.  "Helpless," she said.

At least she didn't say 'hopeless.'  "I can juggle teacups without looking - that was a fluke," Juusanhime said, tilting her chin up and shifting on her cushion.  The table was on a platform by a wide, rectangular window with a dark ebony frame imported from the south, unbreakable; the door was the same, heavy wood that could take a sword, an axe, a hammer.  She preferred lighter decor in her pavilion, but she was also better at defending herself.  "So?"

Shuurei pointed to the last line of her list, now dry.  The white ruffle of her sleeve glowed in the slant of sunlight.  "At the very least, practice your vertical hooks, or you might confuse someone about the letter you want to write."

"Aw, Shuurei--"

"Do it!  Now!  Write!"

Juusanhime hunched over her paper, swirled her brush over the inkstone, and started writing.

 

*

 

 _Rumor has it that Li Kouyuu was marked as the next successor to the Kou clan, but he insists the formality is only a stop-gap measure - if Lord Shouka, dies, he says, before Shuurei can produce a son.  But that isn't true according to her-- and of course any children she bears will belong to his majesty, not the Kou Clan._

 _Even so, as soon as 'Shuurei' and 'children' were mentioned in the same sentence, Lord Reishin visited from the province to ask after her condition.  What a silly man - I don't see why my brothers dislike him.  What could be more amusing than finding the former head of the Kou clan clinging to the window frame like a monkey to snatch a glimpse of his 'adorable niece' before she noticed him?_

 _Lord Shouka says Mount Kou is infested with a cute variety of monkeys that will mock his brother at every opportunity.  No wonder Setsuna called Lord Reishin 'the general of Monkey Mountain,' ha!_

 

*

 

Juusanhime sat heavily on Shuurei's bed and leaned against the pillows.  A sweep of pink curtain hid her face.  "It finally happened, just like Shuuei said it would."  She threw herself back, bounced on the mattress.  "I'm out of breath just from walking over here.  I'm _fat_!"

"You're _pregnant_ ," Shuurei said.  Drawers opened, silver rattled - her needles, or her tea utensils.  Incense burned in a maze on a table in the far corner, reminiscent of lilies, or rose; Juusanhime never could tell the difference.  The day was cloudy and cool, too cold for the hour just after noon, but one of Shuurei's lamps was lit to lend its yellow glow and a bit of warmth.  "Maybe with more than one - didn't you say some of the Ran sisters are twins?"

"Two sets," Juusanhime said.  The sheets smelled like lavender, and a hint of musk lingered, a trace of the resin incense they'd made for the emperor together.  It was a nice scent - not as nice or familiar as Jin, but pleasant.  He dropped by to see her every day, but of course he came to see his other wife directly after.  "And then Gyokukan-- ugh, the last thing we need is more identical faces.  Setsuna is bad enough."

Shuurei sounded just like Kouyuu when she snorted and muttered about not understanding why her father liked the triplets; they sounded arrogant and offensive, and all they were good for was taking her uncle - _your monkey uncle_ , Juusanhime said - down a rung or five.  _I don't care if he deserves it.  I'll take care of my no-good relative, and I don't need their help_.  Shuurei sounded almost like a normal aristocrat, scorning the interference of other clans, but then she said _and anyway, he could be worse.  Maybe he's a little childish, but he's courteous_.

Yeah, Lord Reishin would be courteous if one was Shuurei or Shouka, and everyone else had better be armed to deflect his sharp tongue.  _Not as cute as Shuurei_ , was she?  _Only a Ran girl_ , was she?

Shuurei came back with their embroidery hoops in one hand and a sable box with their thread and needles that she held by a gold-chased handle.  The latches and hinges were gold too, the sides inlaid with white jade plates carved to show blooming cherry trees.  It was gaudy, but useful-- she wouldn't accept useless gifts.  Even Juusanhime had to be careful when it was time to choose a present for the new year, though the knife she'd offered last winter - a good balanced blade, the handle only a little ridiculous with its carved dragons - was useful and necessary, no matter what its intended recipient said. 

Two attempts had been made on her life since the announcement of her pregnancy.  Shuurei had been forgotten by the palace gossips until the botched rumor about her potential child made its rounds.  And now?  Now they were yammering about Juusanhime again; would her child be a boy?  A girl?  Boys sat lower in the abdomen, some maid might say, but another would remind everyone the Ran clan had a reputation for producing entire litters of children just like cats, and what if his majesty was saddled with two or three 'firstborn' children?  How would that affect the succession? 

For that matter, what if she bore only girls? 

Would the Ran clan take an interest in her children-- or would they not?

Silly question.  It wasn't going to be a Ran child; it was a Shi child, and it would be born with its father's gold eyes - she already knew that.

They made their way to the table, mostly at Shuurei's urging; a taller set, one with chairs, had been moved in near the cupboards so Juusanhime could sit comfortably when visiting.  The low table and cushions next to the window looked lonely.  "So."  She narrowed her eyes at the blob shape of her iris on her silk handkerchief and hoped it looked like she was trying to decide how to fix it.  "About your cycle not starting..."

Shuurei shrugged, her expression blurry in Juusanhime's peripheral vision.  "It's only one month, and what you're thinking is unlikely."

Nobody else thought it was unlikely.  Hiding the laundry from their servants was impossible; word that Shuurei wasn't bleeding had reached Juusanhime before noon, and speculation must have spread across the palace like a raging fire.  "Still.  I was thinking we should share rooms for a while."

Her so-called rival looked up, mouth turned slightly downward.  "You can't fight in this condition, Hime.  If someone _does_ come after me--"

"We'll both have Seiran hanging around outside to protect us," Juusanhime said, tilting her head toward the window.  Shuurei looked, but the shine of his purple hair had already disappeared behind a bright green juniper bush.  Juusanhime leaned back, stretching her folded legs straight outward.  Her back twinged, and her stomach stuck out almost far enough to write on when she sat that way. 

"Hmm."  Shuurei lifted her handkerchief to squint at something and said: "I'll think about it."

Juusanhime picked at her lopsided iris with a silver needle and purple thread, her fingers clenched around the embroidery hoop and aching at the joints from being in the same position for so long.  At her elbow waited a sheet of paper on which Shuurei had drawn a grid for kanji practice, the brush and inkstone right there at the top for when she got tired of poking her fingers and bleeding on her own handkerchief.

That day she survived an hour of embroidery - then tossed it onto the floor, where it clattered and caught her needle when she threw it - point down, just like a knife.  Writing was better.  At least her characters were legible.

 _Irritating things:_   
_one: needlework, especially when Shuurei is so much better at it_   
_two: a round stomach_   
_three: maids who offer to remove my 'rival'_   
_four: blood stains_   


 

*

 

 _The servants say Lord Reishin took up residence at the far side of the inner court as soon as he had confirmation of his niece's condition, and the emperor is afraid to throw him out.  I haven't seen him personally, and Shuurei only rolls her eyes when asked._

 _Well.  As for his majesty being frightened of the monkey general, that's no surprise.  As long as that man is here, his majesty is bound to come into Shuurei's room for a visit one day and find Lord Reishin peeking through the window - maybe at the worst possible time.  What a creepy uncle_.

 

*

 

 _Unpleasant circumstances:_   
_one: pregnancy - have I mentioned it yet?_   
_two: pregnancy_   
_three: labor_   


_Shuuei is still waiting outside with Ryuuren and his majesty, even though I told them all to go away.  Maybe I should call dear brother in - it doesn't matter which one - and try to break his ha_ \--

 

*

 

"You'll want to do the same thing when your monkey uncle is hanging around _your_ birthing room," Juusanhime said-- softly, because if they raised their voices, they'd never get any peace.  "If you want to blame someone for waking the baby, by the way, guess who I saw sneaking across the verandah before Antoku started crying?"

Shuurei's head moved, and her golden hair pins jangled, but her forehead remained firmly connected with the tabletop.  "I should have stayed in my own rooms," she mumbled to the wood.  Her arms muffled it, folded around her head and the fans of her hair, and her magenta sleeves spread out in triangles with wide, ruffled edges.  They'd chosen the same pavilion his majesty had placed them in when Juusanhime first arrived, so the gold and jade hairpins glittered in light reflected from the water outside, onto the glass, and all the way across the floor to where they were sitting.  "I would be sleeping every night; I'd be able to read--"

Plum petals floated in their tea, bright white against the roasted orange color of oolong and honey, a perfect contrast to the frosty morning, the snow, the puffs of air her breath made when she went outside to pull water up from the well.  Juusanhime leaned over her cup, nudged the foot encroaching on her space beneath the table.  "Read what, reports on the granaries?"  She grinned, showed all her teeth.  "Or another collection of women's tales on having babies?"

Dangling quartz cherry blossoms swung when Shuurei lifted her head high enough to show the flat line of her mouth.  "I don't know why he gave that to me," she said, and let her head drop again, this time onto her arms.  "It's full of superstition."

"He's your father.  He's trying to help."  Juusanhime's smile faded slightly, and she picked her cup up, sipped, and turned her face toward the window.  Her unadorned reflection stared back.  She couldn't remember her own father, though her mother never spoke badly of him.  They'd had loyal retainers at home; Jin's father was like her own, and her mother had died so early-- "Maybe I can have someone sent from the province.  Setsuna will know who can be trusted, and then we'll--"

"No, it's okay."  Shuurei sat up.  Her hair had frizzed around her forehead, mussed by her sleeves; the silk had left faint creases on her face.  She rubbed her eyes.  "Why don't we look at your calligraphy again, since we have the chance?  Did you get to Lu Yuurei's poem?"

The sun traveled at least an hour's worth while they looked at Juusanhime's transcription of the song.  Along with literature on child-birthing, Lord Shouka had left them with volumes of poetry that had been stored in the auxiliary archive building, where books and scrolls were left when they were no longer used, but considered too important to sell.  _These were passed around the Inner Court when the last emperor reigned_ , he told them, and pointed out Lu Yuurei's poetry anthology as the best - the one even men acknowledged, though it was written by a woman.  _That's rare_ , Shuurei had said.  _Kouki had this on his shelf - I always thought that was strange_.

The calligraphy earned a shake of Shuurei's head, and a smile that almost trembled.  _I told you I'm no good at it_ , Juusanhime said, pouring her fourth cup of tea.  It was turning bitter; the leaves had steeped too long, and the taste was acidic.  She dumped it out and got up to boil more water, then chose a pot of genmai instead of oolong, which should compliment the last of the morning's steamed buns.  Shuurei's writing box was out when she returned to the table; the pearl dangles of her hairsticks were long enough to touch the table, almost, while she was bent over it to write, arm propped hard on the table so red marks could be seen beneath her sleeve.

"Is that your pillow book?" Juusanhime shoved her papers onto the floor and saw them skitter and flap halfway across the room.  "I can't be the only consort to keep one.  That would look pathetic."

Three full breaths passed before Shuurei ended her sentence and lifted her head.  "Of course I'm writing one.  I have to, if you are."

Juusanhime planted her fist on her hip.  "Not really..."

The Kou consort ignored her.  "Want to read today's?"  She offered her paper with both hands.  The entry was only three sentences long:

 _Things to look forward to:_   
_first: presenting Gyokuran to Ryuuki_   
_second: teaching Antoku his letters (because it would be shameful for the crown prince to write as messily as his mother)_   
_third:_   


The paper trembled in Juusanhime's hand, and she laughed, feeling pressure build behind her eyes.  Stupid pregnancy.  It was over, but it still made her cry.  "You're so sure it'll be a girl."  She lowered the paper, let it fall to her side.  "You haven't even started filling out yet."

Shuurei cinched her belt tight around her slender waist, smiling, and pushed her empty cup across the table.  She had rounded out since joining the court as a consort, just a little - it showed where the ruffled collar of her day dress met in a 'V' between her breasts.  Her smile quirked and twisted.  "I'll finally have a figure when I do," she said, holding her hands up to her chest. 

"You're fine.  He doesn't seem to care, anyway."  Juusanhime smoothed the paper on the table, let her sleeve cover the letters.  Her eyes felt hot, but she blinked quickly, and it seemed to do the trick.  Her eyes stayed dry.  "I'll-- I'll get the tea."

The cupboard with their tea utensils and the stove for the kettle were all the way on the other side of the room - a whole ten steps that felt like a league, and Juusanhime thought she might trip on the hem of her robe like she used to when she was little.  It was warmer there, tinged slightly orange, slightly gold, the flame peeking through the iron plate heating the kettle.  By the sound the water wasn't at a rolling boil, but that was perfect for green tea.  Any hotter and the genmai would be just as bitter as the leftover oolong.

Shuurei's voice carried across the room, over the noise, yet it was still soft.  She knew how to modulate her voice around children.  Maybe it came from being a teacher - or a government official.  "My mother knew I would be a girl."

Juusanhime spooned genmai tea into the pot, then poured water from the kettle over it and breathed in the steam.  "Your mom was an exception."  The tray was heavier than before; Juusanhime held it with both hands and walked it over, staring at the pot, where water sloshed out from the top, just a bit - at the bits of green tea scattered on the lacquered bed of the tray.  "Stop showing off, Rose Princess, or I'll let Lord Reishin sneak in tonight to rub your tummy."

Shuurei's eyes went round, and her mouth with them.  " _Hime_ \--!"

Juusanhime laughed and wiped her eyes.  In the other room, Antoku's thin, fussy voice rose.  She covered her mouth with both hands, but-- too late.  He was crying, and Shuurei was already standing up.  Her writing instruments had been put away.  _Here we go again_.

 

.


End file.
